"I do wonder what made those horses run away with the knights?" said Rosabel.
"We have made the discovery," said the widow, coming on the porch in company with the Professor. "It was just as I had predicted. That Barney Bates was at the bottom of the mischief."
"What did he do?" asked Rosabel.
"Why," said the Professor, "in anticipation of the tournament, Barney had procured pieces of leather perforated by a number of long and sharp tacks, the points of which were carefully covered by other pieces of thinner leather, so arranged that it required the weight of the rider to cause the tacks to pierce through. Bates had seduced the other boys from their allegiance to their respective knights, and under each saddle was one of these cruel instruments of torture, ready to give the steed great agony as soon as the valiant knight had mounted."
"And that caused the horses to kick up and run off?" said Ida.
"That was undoubtedly the cause of their extraordinary excitement," said the Professor.
"I wonder what has become of Love?" said Ida.
"He fell at your feet," said Toney.
"And Bliss?" said Rosabel.
"Bliss endeavored to bestow himself on you," said Toney.
"Indeed, he was very near falling in Rosabel's lap," said the widow.
"And what did they do with Dove?" asked Ida.
"Ladies," said the Professor, "I have made inquiry, and can answer your questions. Those three gallant knights were carried from the lists to the town. No bones had been broken, but their nerves were terribly shattered. They were conducted to a chamber in the hotel, and strong tonics brought from the bar and skillfully administered by the landlord. At this very moment, Love, Dove, and Bliss are snugly sleeping in the same bed, and probably dreaming of future fields of glory."
In the society of the beautiful Ida, Tom Seddon passed seven days of rapture. Every morning and evening he was at the mansion of the Widow Wild, and had eyes and ears for nobody but Ida. The Professor informed Toney that in their walks homeward by moonlight, Tom was usually as silent as a man who had a difficult problem in his head for solution, and that on several occasions, when he had endeavored to engage him in conversation, he had started from a reverie, and exclaimed, "Indeed, Miss Ida, what you say is very true."
"He mistook you for Ida?" asked Toney.
"To be sure he did," said the Professor. "Mistook me for a young lady. Is it not a pretty piece of business for the founder of the sect of Funny Philosophers to have the imagination of one of his disciples clothing him in petticoats? Toney, tell me, candidly, do I look like Ida?"
"Not much, I must confess," said Toney, laughing. "But Ida's image is impressed on Tom's organ of vision, and when he looks at you the image aforesaid is dancing in the intervening space."
"And so he mistakes me for the young lady. Tom Seddon is getting to be really disagreeable," said the Professor. "During the day, when Ida is not present, he is as absent-minded as was ever old Sir Isaac Newton;and at night, as we occupy the same room in the hotel, I am annoyed by his somniloquism."
"What does he say?" asked Toney.
"I cannot comprehend his incoherent mutterings, but sometimes hear 'Ida, Ida,' articulated with tender emphasis. I do wish that Tom would get out of Doubting Castle."
"What sort of a place is that?" asked Toney.
"A place in which all young ladies compel their lovers to dwell for a period, either long or short, according to their whim or caprice. I have known some maidens, who looked as meek and gentle as the doves that cooed in the garden of Eden in the days of primeval innocence, exhibit as much cruelty to their captives as did Old Giant Despair to the poor Pilgrims who had fallen into his hands. Indeed, I have known some lovers held in Doubting Castle for years."
"Do you think that Tom's term of imprisonment will be of long duration?"
"I think not. Ida's uncle is opposed to Tom's suit, is he not?"
"Oh, very much. He puts almost insuperable barriers between Tom and Ida. He sometimes chases Tom out of his house by pretending to have a fit of canine rabies."
"This opposition on the part of the old Cerberus will be the means of soon liberating Tom from Doubting Castle."
"How so?"
"As I said on a former occasion, women are like pigs: if you try to head them off they will give a squeal and bolt by you, and travel the very road you didn't want them to go. Old Crabstick will soon find this out. Tom Seddon will not long remain in Doubting Castle."
"Yonder he comes now," said Toney.
"He is out of the Castle,—I know it," said the Professor.
"What makes you think so?"
"Look at how he walks. His head is up. His step is as light as if his feet were feathers. Yesterday he held his head down, as if he were calculating the distance to the antipodes, and walked as if he had a large quantityof lead in the bottom of his boots. I'll bet that he don't call me Miss Ida after to-day."
Tom Seddon approached them with his face radiant with smiles. He took Toney by the hand and shook it energetically. He then seized the Professor by both hands and gave him a violent shaking.
"It is a beautiful day," said Tom.
"It is always so," said the Professor, "after——"
"After what?" asked Tom.
"After the sun comes from behind the clouds," said the Professor.
"Toney, my dear fellow, I want to speak to you," said Tom, taking Toney by the arm and leading him aside.
"I knew it," muttered the Professor to himself. "The gates of Doubting Castle are wide open. He is out. How happy he looks! I wonder if it always makes a man feel so happy? I wish I could find Dora. I'd risk another negative."
Tom told Toney his secret. He had walked with Ida in the Widow Wild's garden, and had told the young lady how—— But this ought not to be repeated. He and Ida had exchanged vows of eternal fidelity, and Miss Somers had promised to become Mrs. Seddon at some future period not yet clearly designated. This was a profound secret between Toney and Tom, and the latter was confident that the Professor did not even guess at it, as was evident from the very grave manner with which he remarked, as they came where he stood,—
"Toney, it is about time for me to go home and prepare for the exhibition. You will be there to-night?"
"Yes, Tom and I will be there, and bring the ladies."
The Professor proceeded to his lodging, while Toney and Tom walked to the residence of the Widow Wild, and sat on the porch with Rosabel and Ida.
Joseph Boneskull, the learned phrenologist, was to make a public examination of heads, and, as a sort of afterpiece, the Professor had promised to make some experiments in biology. This he did merely as an amateur, and for the entertainment of his friends. The profits of the exhibition inured to the benefit of Boneskull.
There was a large crowd gathered in the town hall ofMapleton. Toney and Tom escorted Ida, Rosabel, and the widow to the exhibition, and secured for them comfortable seats.
"Who is that little man seated on the platform?" asked Rosabel.
"That is the phrenologist," said Toney.
"What is that thing on the table before him?" asked Rosabel.
"The phrenologist informed me that it was the skull of a distinguished negro lawyer of Timbuctoo," said Toney.
"It looks like a sheep's head," said the widow.
Boneskull now arose and made a few remarks, tending to show what important results the science of phrenology was destined to produce; saying that in the administration of justice the guilt or innocence of parties accused of crimes could be ascertained with certainty by an inspection of their craniums; that men could thus know what occupation or calling they should pursue, and whom they should marry; remarking, with emphasis, that no gentleman should venture upon matrimony until he had first made a critical examination of the young lady's head.
"What's that he says?" asked the widow.
"Why, mother, he says that gentlemen should examine young ladies' heads when they court them," said Rosabel.
"If I were a young lady," said the widow, "I would like to see any man come pawing about my head."
Tom looked at Ida, and Ida blushed, and Tom was satisfied and willing to venture on matrimony without an examination of that beautiful head covered with long and luxuriant tresses.
"What is Mr. Pate going to do?" asked Rosabel, as Pate took a seat on the platform.
"He has presented himself for examination," said Toney.
The phrenologist carefully manipulated the big bald head before him, and then exclaimed, with enthusiasm,—
"This gentleman has a most magnificent cranium. His perceptive faculties are large, and so are the organs of firmness, benevolence, and conscientiousness; comparison is very large, and causality is immense. I havenever met with a finer development of the reasoning faculties except on the skull of the distinguished lawyer of Timbuctoo, which now lies before me on the table. This gentleman would excel in intellectual pursuits, and might make a great and distinguished judge, the equal of Mansfield or Marshall."
Pate retired from the platform a proud and happy man, and from that day became an enthusiastic student of the science of phrenology.
Perch seated himself in the chair which he had vacated.
"This gentleman," said Boneskull, "is better fitted for domestic life. He would be a devoted lover, and a disappointment in love might drive him to despair, and even suicide."
Perch hastily retired, for he recollected the bottle of brandy which he had swallowed in a fit of desperation after his unfortunate interview with the beautiful Imogen in Colonel Hazlewood's garden. Love and Dove now seated themselves in two chairs, and were examined by Boneskull, who said,—
"The organs of these gentlemen correspond in every particular. Each can sing sweetly, and either could easily win a woman's heart."
"What's that?" exclaimed the widow.
"Listen," said Rosabel.
"They could conquer in affairs of love, and either could drive a woman to despair; but neither would do so, for in both the organ of benevolence is immensely developed."
"Did you ever hear such talk?" said the widow. "Dove drive a woman to despair! Well, I wonder what he is going to say about Ned Botts?" said she, as that uncomely individual ascended the platform and seated himself in the chair.
"Perhaps," said Boneskull, with a look of embarrassment, "you might be offended if I were to say what is revealed by the bumps?"
"Not at all," said Botts. "Speak out."
"The organ of destructiveness is very large. This man might commit——"
"What?" said Botts.
"Murder," said Boneskull.
Botts jumped up and knocked Boneskull down, and kicked him off the platform.
"Murder! murder! murder!" roared the phrenologist as he rolled on the floor among the audience.
The ladies shrieked, and two constables rushed forward, and, seizing Botts, who was swearing vociferously, led him from the room.
"Where is Boneskull?" exclaimed a man in the crowd.
"Here he is under my feet," said another.
The little man was lifted up and placed on the platform.
"Oh, dear," said Rosabel, "he is almost murdered! Look how he is bleeding."
Boneskull put his handkerchief to his nose, from which a crimson stream was copiously flowing, and hastily retreated from the room by a back door.
The Professor followed him out, and soon returned and announced that the phrenologist was too much disabled to resume his position on the platform. It was therefore proposed to entertain the audience with some experiments in biology, and to show them the wonderful effects of a psychological illusion.
"Let any one who is so disposed," said the Professor, "sit for fifteen minutes with his eyes closed and his right thumb on his left pulse. At the end of that time I will commence my experiments."
Several persons immediately put themselves in the required position. The Professor held his watch in his hand, and at the expiration of the time named, approached M. T. Pate, who was sitting with his eyes closed and his thumb on his wrist. "Open your eyes! open your eyes, if you can!" said the Professor, in an abrupt tone of command. Pate's eyes flew wide open. "You won't do," said the Professor, and he approached Simon Rump. "Open your eyes! open your eyes, sir, if you can,"—but Rump's eyes were as tightly closed as if he had padlocks on the lids, and the Professor conducted him to the platform. Dove and Bliss were also unable to open their eyes, and were seated by the side of Simon Rump.
"This is a nice young lady," said the Professor, addressing Dove and pointing to Rump. "She is in love with you and expects you to court her."
Dove drew his chair close up to Rump and put his arm around his neck and kissed him. Rump looked modest and blushed deeply.
"Will you allow that?" said the Professor. "The young lady is in love with you and he is kissing her."
Bliss seized Dove and commenced pulling him away. There was quite a struggle between them, when the Professor sternly cried out,—
"What are you doing there? Quarreling over that ugly black woman?"
Dove and Bliss started back with horror depicted in their countenances. To each of them Simon Rump had assumed the appearance of a hideous negress.
"Look out! it is a snake! it will bite you!" said the Professor, throwing down his cane. Rump, Dove, and Bliss ran around the platform with cries of terror. "It is a telescope! Pick it up! you can see the capitol at Washington through it." Rump put it to his eyes and beheld the national capitol.
"Stand here," said the Professor to Rump. "Now, whom would you like to see?—the dead?"
"No, no!" exclaimed Rump.
"The absent?"
"Yes."
"Whom?"
"Susan," said Rump.
"There she is!" said the Professor, pointing to a female form at the far end of the room. Rump uttered a cry of rapture, and, leaping from the platform, ran to the female, and threw his arms round her neck, and kissed her on both cheeks.
"Look at Simon Rump!" said the Widow Wild. "The miserable dog! he is kissing my cook, who is as black as Beelzebub."
The cook screamed, and fought Simon Rump with her nails; and another belligerent now appeared in his rear. This was Simon's angel, who had beheld his conduct with intense indignation, and was now fiercely assaulting him with her parasol. Two of the cherubs also took part in the combat, and Rump was driven from the door into the street. The crowd followed, cheering the angeland the two cherubs. Rump was overpowered, and turning his back, ignominiously fled, leaving the angel and cherubs in possession of the field. While men and women stood in the street in wild excitement, the Professor locked the door of the hall and proceeded to his lodgings.
Like one who has committed a great crime, and knows that retributive justice is in close proximity to his heels, Simon Rump fled homeward, on foot, a miserable man. The blows and the hair-pulling, of which he was the recipient, had driven the delusion from his brain, and he was conscious of his guilt, and in trembling apprehension awaited his punishment. In the house, where he had spent so many hours in days gone by, contemplating the blissful period when it would be the abode of an angel and seven sweet little cherubs, he now sat and listened with a feeling of extreme terror for the sounds which would indicate the approach of the angel aforesaid.
At length the clatter of horses' hoofs was heard, and peeping through the window, poor Rump beheld the angel ride up with a female cherub on the pillion behind her. A male cherub was mounted on the other horse. As Rump saw them in the act of dismounting, the manly fortitude which he had endeavored to summon up instantly forsook him, and he seized his hat and fled with precipitation from the house through a back door. The wretched man ran with speed until he reached a wood on the outskirts of his farm, where he wandered for hours, like one who had been driven an outcast from association with his kind. Tired and sleepy, he at last ventured into his barn, and throwing himself on a bundle of hay, endeavored to recruit his exhausted faculties in the arms of Morpheus.
With the ruddy dawn of the day the consciousness ofhis misery returned. Rump rubbed his eyes and looked around. At the distance of one hundred yards from where he sat on his bundle of hay he beheld his domicile, in which dwelt an angel and seven sweet little cherubs, who had become to him the beings he most dreaded to encounter. The hour for breakfast at length arrived, and he knew that hot coffee and buttered cakes were on the old mahogany table, and he was a miserable wretch banished from his own board. Hunger at length drove him forth, and with timidity he approached his house, ascended the steps, and attempted to open the door. It was bolted. Rump rapped.
"Who is there?" asked the angel, in shrill and abrupt tones.
"It is I," said Simon.
"Who is I?" asked the mother of the cherubs.
"Simon Rump," said the lord of the mansion.
"Simon Rump is dead. I planted a rose over that good man's grave more than a year ago. What do you want?"
"I am hungry; I want my breakfast," said Simon.
"Go around to the kitchen and eat with the cook," said the angel.
Simon Rump now knew that the angel was inexorable, and that henceforth he was a stranger at his own door. He walked away with a sad heart and obtained a breakfast at a neighbor's house. This benevolent individual endeavored to comfort the poor exile, and offered him an asylum until the wrath of the angel should be appeased. In his new abode Simon remained during the day, and at night he would wander around his own house, which he was now forbidden to enter.
One night, as he was wandering on the boundary between his farm and the estate of the Widow Wild, he heard a commotion among a herd of swine. Rump had recently lost several porkers, and was confident that some one was now in the act of stealing a hog. He followed in the direction of the sound, and in the moonlight beheld a negro dragging, by its legs, a large animal of the porcine species to the door of his cabin. The African here threw his squealing victim on its back, and instantlyplunged a large knife into its throat. Rump rushed forward, and seizing the assassin by the collar, commenced severely belaboring him with a stout hickory, at the same time indignantly denouncing him in terms of vituperation. The negro was astounded at this sudden assault on his person, and bounding about with extraordinary agility, loudly exclaimed,—
"Take care, Massa Rump! take care, or you will hurt yourself!"
But Rump, regardless of this advice, continued his vigorous exercise until he had broken his hickory, when he exclaimed,—
"Who are you?"
"I am Sam."
"You are the infernal thief who was whipped for stealing the hen and eggs! Whose hog is that?"
"It belongs to the Widow Wild."
"I thought it was mine," said Rump. "But, no matter, you have got to go to jail. Come along!"
This predatory African was incarcerated in the jail of the county, and being unacquainted with any lawyer except the eloquent advocate who had once so ably defended him in the court of Justice Johnson and obtained for him a new trial in spite of the efforts of Piddler to prevent it, he sent for M. T. Pate, and employed him in his defense against this charge of felony.
Here, then, was an opportunity for the aspiring advocate to distinguish himself.
The eulogy pronounced by the learned phrenologist on his intellectual developments had awakened ambitious hopes in his bosom, and Pate determined to prepare in the most elaborate manner for the defense of his sable client, and was confident of redeeming his reputation, which had been so badly damaged in his encounter with Toney Belton. It was exceedingly fortunate for him that the trial could not take place until a week subsequent to the time when he was employed as counsel. Unlike some other able advocates, he had none of that superficial but convenient talent which enables its possessors to make some of their best efforts almost impromptu. Like the bird of wisdom, he meditated much before he opened his mouth,and seldom ventured upon any public effort without having previously thrown his thoughts into the shape of a written composition, which was carefully committed to memory, to be used on the proper occasion. Had there not been an opportunity for preparation during a whole week, that portion of his speech in defense of Sam, which he succeeded in producing from the archives of his memory, would, without doubt, have been far less remarkable for its beauty and eloquence.
Demosthenes would never have been the foremost man in the Athenian forum if he had not labored assiduously to correct his imperfections by going daily to the seashore, with his vocal organ well ballasted with pebbles, and delivering his orations with the winds howling around him and the waves roaring at his feet. In imitation of so illustrious an example, M. T. Pate, having composed an elaborate speech in defense of the incarcerated African, daily resorted to some secluded spot, and gave utterance to his eloquence with the birds twittering their delight, and the frogs croaking their hoarse notes of approbation.
On a certain afternoon Toney and Tom were walking in the direction of the Widow Wild's mansion, engaged in earnest conversation.
"But," said Toney, "Ida is entirely dependent on her eccentric uncle, and you have but little property."
"Ida is willing to wait until I have acquired sufficient——"
"To buy a cottage big enough to hold an angel and seven sweet little cherubs?" said Toney. "But a cottage is not all. Angels must eat, and cherubs must have bread and butter, and it takes money to obtain a constant supply of such articles. Love cannot live on earth without the aid of the butcher and baker."
"I will go to work at my profession and make money," said Tom.
"That you can do," said Toney; "but it takes time."
"Ida is willing to wait for ten years," said Tom. "I wish somebody would tell me where there is a gold mine."
"What would you do?" asked Toney.
"I would dig sixteen hours in each day until I had a hundred thousand dollars," said Tom.
"And so would I," said Toney; "for I want exactly one hundred thousand dollars."
"I wonder if there is not gold in our newly-acquired territory on the Pacific coast?" said Tom.
"Would you go there?" asked Toney.
"Yes," said Tom, "and stay for five years, if necessary, to get enough gold to buy a home——"
"For Ida and the cherubs?" said Toney.
"What noise is that in the wood?" exclaimed Tom.
"Two drunken men quarreling over an empty bottle," said Toney.
They now entered the wood and proceeded in the direction of the noise.
"Stop!" said Tom. "Look yonder!"
Toney looked in the direction indicated, and beheld the robust form of M. T. Pate perched upon a stump, his arms and legs in violent motion, and words rolling from his lips with amazing volubility.
"What is he doing?" said Tom, "Has he gone mad?"
"No; he is practicing oratory; it is a rehearsal," said Toney.
"How would he look if we were to go up and speak to him?" said Tom.
"Like an unfortunate dog taken in the act of assassinating a sheep," said Toney. "Don't let him see us. Listen! What's that he is saying?"
"Something about the Widow Wild," said Tom. "Hear that! He says she has a heart of flint."
"Calls her a harpy," said Toney.
"It's well for him the widow does not hear him," said Tom. "What's it all about?"
"Pate's client has stolen the widow's hog, and the lawyer is getting ready to abuse the owner of the property. Hark! What's that?"
There was a noise in the bushes, and two men sprang out with clubs in their hands, and ran towards Pate, loudly shouting,—
"Here he is! Catch him! catch him!"
Pate looked around, and then leaped from the stump and fled through the wood with the speed of a frightened antelope.
"Stop! stop! Halt! halt!" cried Toney and Tom.
The men halted, and coming towards them, were recognized as two laborers employed on the Widow Wild's estate.
"What were you going to do?" asked Toney.
"Give that fellow a good beating," said one of the men.
"What has he been doing?" inquired Tom.
"He comes here every day and gets on that stump, and abuses the Widow Wild, who is as nice a woman as a man ever worked for, and we won't stand it! So we cut these clubs and lay in the bushes for him."
"You had better let him alone," said Toney. "He is a lawyer."
"Let him come here again!" said one of the men.
"Even if he was a priest!" said the other.
"What would you do?" asked Toney.
"Break every bone in his body!" said the man, brandishing his club. And with this emphatic declaration of their intentions, the men returned to their work, while Toney and Tom proceeded on their way to the residence of the Widow Wild.
The frequent delivery of his elaborate speech, before an audience of feathered bipeds and amphibious quadrupeds, had fully prepared M. T. Pate for the day of trial. On the morning of that eventful day he was seen seated in court with a grave aspect, which indicated that he sensibly felt the weight of the tremendous responsibility which rested upon him.
The prisoner was put in the dock, when the Commonwealth's attorney and Mr. Pate announced themselves ready for trial, and were each furnished with a list of thejurors in attendance. The offense charged in the indictment being felony, the prisoner was entitled to twenty peremptory challenges. In exercising this important privilege, Mr. Pate displayed his great knowledge of human nature acquired by a thorough study of phrenology. He scrutinized closely the head of each juror as he was called to the book, and when the organ of benevolence appeared to be diminutive, he cried out, with a loud voice, "Challenge!" But if that merciful organ was largely developed, he eagerly exclaimed, "Swearhim! swearhim!" putting a strong emphasis on the word "him."
A jury having been impaneled, after a brief statement of the case by the Commonwealth's attorney, the Widow Wild was put upon the stand and proved property as alleged in the indictment. Pate put her under a cross-examination, and asked,—
"Madam, what was the sex or gender of your hog?"
The widow hesitated and looked at the judge, who told her to answer the question.
"It was a gentleman hog," said she.
"How do you know it was a gentleman hog?" asked Pate.
"I know it just as well as I know that you are not a gentleman hog," said the widow, tartly.
"You may take your seat," said the lawyer.
"Thank you, sir," said the widow. And with a toss of her head, and a fiery look of indignation at the attorney, she glided to a seat in the corner of the room, where she announced to the Professor her intention to repay Pate for his impudence.
Simon Rump was now sworn, and testified to the facts already stated in the preceding chapter, and which appeared to be conclusive proof of the guilt of the accused. But Pate was not discouraged. He put Rump under a rigorous cross-examination, and asked him if he was not subjected to psychological illusions. The opposite counsel interposed an objection to this question, and the court inquired of Mr. Pate his object in asking it.
"May it please your Honor," said Pate, "I expect to show that this man Rump is one of those unfortunateindividuals who are continually subjected to psychological illusions. This class are quite numerous, and not long ago I heard one of them say that he had seen a heavy piano get up of its own accord and dance on nothing, half-way between the ceiling and the floor, all the while playing a tune, and keeping time with its feet to its own music.
"Another man told me that he had seen a certain doctor walk on the air, and pass out at one window in the third story of a house and come in at the other. And it is said that this Simon Rump alleges that he once saw a white ghost, in a clump of willows, in the rear of his barn. Now, learned men inform us that these objects have no real existence, but are simply projections from the disordered brain of the person who imagines that he sees them. May it please your Honor, it is not at all unlikely that Sam and the hog were nothing more than projections from the disordered brain of Simon Rump. If a man's brain can project a heavy piano and cause it to dance a jig on the air, could not Rump's brain project a big negro with a whole hog on his shoulder?"
In anticipation of this testimony, Pate had carefully prepared his argument at home and had committed it to memory.
He now succeeded in carrying his point, the court deciding that, upon general principles, there was nothing to preclude the prisoner's counsel from proving, if he could so do, that Rump's brain was in such a disordered condition as to render his testimony unreliable. So the question was put to Rump, who said that he had walked at all hours of the night, and had never seen a psychological illusion; that he had never "heard tell of them" before, and did not know what they were. After much badgering, however, he admitted that he had seen something behind his barn, which, to the best of his knowledge and belief, was a ghost. Having been worried until he had made this admission, poor Rump was finally dismissed from the stand.
The testimony of the State was here closed.
The court now inquired of Mr. Pate if he had any witnesses to examine on the part of the defense.
"Yes, may it please your Honor," was the reply, "we have one very important witness. Call Professor Joseph Boneskull."
Thereupon the crier called, in a loud voice, "Professor Joseph Boneskull! Professor Joseph Boneskull!"
Immediately a bald-headed little man, about five feet two inches in stature, walked up to the witness-stand, carrying in his hand a phrenological plaster cast of a human head. All eyes opened in amazement and looked with wonder, first at the head on the little man's shoulders, and then at the head in his hand.
This strange witness, who seemed to come on the stand under the impression that two heads were better than one, was sworn by the clerk in the usual form, when Mr. Pate asked,—
"What is your profession, trade, occupation, or calling?"
"My profession," said the witness, "is one of which all sensible men might be proud. I am a phrenologist. I tell the diversified mental and moral characteristics of men, women, and children, whether they be white or whether they be black, by a manipulatory examination of the superficial, distinctive developments of their respective craniums, vulgarly denominated skulls."
"Have you, or have you not, made, very recently, a critical examination of the cranium of the prisoner at the bar?"
"I answer, most unequivocally, I have."
"Can you inform the jury what are the respective developments of the prisoner's organs of alimentiveness, acquisitiveness, and conscientiousness?"
Here the opposite counsel rose and objected to the question; saying that the introduction of such testimony was wholly unwarranted by any of the established rules of evidence.
After an argument of some length, the court decided that the testimony in relation to the phrenological developments of Sam was inadmissible. Thereupon Professor Boneskull retired from the stand, carrying both heads with him as he went.
"Mr. Pate, have you any further testimony to offer?" inquired the court.
"None whatever," was the mournful response.
"Then, gentlemen, go before the jury," said the judge.
The remarks of the Commonwealth's attorney, which were very brief, are not remembered; but a portion of Mr. Pate's great argument has been retained in the memory of men in a fine state of preservation. He spoke as follows:
"May it please your Honor, and gentlemen of the jury,—No advocate ever rose to address a Christian jury under so many and such tremendous disadvantages as now encompass me and my unfortunate but innocent and virtuous client. The prisoner is unjustly and falsely accused of stealing the Widow Wild's hog; and that ruthless woman is here to-day with a heart of flint in her bosom, and with all the influence which the wealth she has grasped and retained with the harpy hand of avarice enables her to exert,—she is here to-day not to prosecute, but to persecute, to calumniate, to crush, and to ruin this poor, unfriended, innocent, and unoffending African.
"There is another disadvantage under which my client labors. In the language of a great Roman poet,hic est niger, and while men of the Caucasian race are tried by their peers, that sacred right is withheld from Sam, simply because he is an African, although it is possible, and even probable, that he has royal blood in his veins as one of the descendants of the heroic kings of Timbuctoo. Has not Sam the right to be tried by his peers? and who in that jury-box can be considered as the peer of Sam?
"Gentlemen of the jury, I am aware of the tremendous peril which now environs my client; and I know that my zeal in behalf of this unhappy criminal has made me many enemies; but, in the eloquent language of that venerable patriot and signer of our glorious Declaration of Independence, old John Adams, 'Sink or swim, live or die, survive or perish,' I give my heart and my voice in defense of Sam.
"Did not the great Cicero defy public opinion when he stood before Pompey in defense of Milo, who had been indicted for the murder of the unprincipled Clodius? Did not the celebrated William H. Seward brave public prejudice when he boldly defended the negro Freeman,who had murdered six or seven white men and women in a single night? And shall I hesitate to risk my popularity by defending this innocent African who has stolen the Widow Wild's hog?
"Gentlemen, may my right hand wither, and my tongue cleave to the roof of my mouth, when I am afraid to lift my voice to advocate the cause of my innocent and calumniated client.
"Gentlemen, Luther Martin was one of the greatest lawyers in America, and did he not say, in his celebrated speech in defense of Aaron Burr, that 'the law presumes every man to be innocent until he is proved to be guilty?' And where is the proof of guilt in this case? Do they expect you to believe the testimony of Simon Rump? Who is Simon Rump? A miserable and deluded man, who sees a thousand things which never had any existence except in his disordered imagination. Rump swore on that stand that he had never seen a psychological illusion.
"Gentlemen, I watched his countenance when he made that statement under oath, and I observed his lip quiver and his cheek turn pale, for Simon Rump knew that he was swearing to an unmitigated falsehood. Did he not on a recent occasion mistake a hickory stick for a snake? and afterwards use it as a telescope, and said that he beheld the capitol at Washington? Did he not publicly kiss the Widow Wild's black cook on both cheeks, believing her to be a beautiful young lady of Caucasian complexion? Why, gentlemen, Rump's disordered brain is a perfect machine-shop for the manufacture of psychological illusions, which are projected as he walks abroad during the day, or sits in the chimney corner smoking his pipe in the evening. The brain of this unhappy man projected a hobgoblin as he wandered about in the dark in the rear of his barn; and could it not just as easily have projected a hog? Why, gentlemen, the disordered brain of Simon Rump is capable of projecting an elephant or a rhinoceros! And could it not, then, have projected the pitiful porker which he alleged he saw in the possession of Sam?
"Gentlemen of the jury, Simon Rump never saw either Sam or the hog on the occasion referred to in his testimony; he only saw a phantom created by his diseasedmental organization; and when this miserable man reproduces the illusive images projected from his disordered cranium, for the purpose of convicting my unfortunate client, each one of you should exclaim, in the language of the immortal William Shakspeare:
'Hence, horrible shadow!Unreal mockery, hence!'
'Hence, horrible shadow!Unreal mockery, hence!'
'Hence, horrible shadow!
Unreal mockery, hence!'
"Gentlemen of the jury, had this honorable court permitted me to examine the learned Professor Boneskull, I could have easily proved by him that the guilt of Sam is a natural impossibility. This was the very Gibraltar of our defense, and it has been partially demolished by the court. But, gentlemen, although you have not the testimony of Professor Boneskull before you, the prisoner himself is seated in full view, and you can certainly rely upon the evidence of your own senses, which, according to Greenleaf, affords the strongest kind of proof. I entreat you to look upon the goodly countenance of my client and to scrutinize closely his phrenological developments. The organ of alimentiveness is remarkably diminutive. Is it not, then, a natural impossibility that Sam should have so enormous an appetite that he would seek to devour a whole hog? His organ of acquisitiveness is still smaller, and he could not covet nor desire another man's property; while his immense development of conscientiousness renders it impossible for him to steal.
"Gentlemen, the bumps clearly demonstrate that the guilt of the prisoner is a natural impossibility. Nature herself cries aloud that he is innocent. Sam—Sam—I say—Sam!" Here Mr. Pate commenced pulling vigorously at the drawer in the table before him, while Sam, who was dozing in the prisoners' dock, suddenly started up and exclaimed, in a loud voice, "Sir!"—at which the bailiffs called out, "Silence! Silence!" and the judge rapped with his gavel.
Bad luck had been watching the eloquent advocate from the moment he commenced his argument, and the ugly demon now pounced upon him as he stood, in anticipation of his triumph, on the ramparts of his Gibraltar. His oration had been written on half-sheets of paper,which, with two law-books, he had put in a drawer of the table, intending to take out a few sheets at a time in the order in which he might want to use them. When the speaker had concluded the last sentence as above, he put his hand to the drawer to get the next sheet of manuscript for the purpose of refreshing his memory; but how great was his horror on finding the drawer closed in such manner that he could not open it! By some awkward arrangement of the books one of them had opened, and was acting as a lock to prevent the drawer from being pulled out.
Mr. Pate pulled vigorously at the drawer, but in vain; at the same time repeating, in hysterical tones, the words, "Gentlemen of the jury,"—"Gentlemen of the jury." He was then heard to exclaim, in a sort of soliloquy, "Gracious heavens! Sam will be sent to the penitentiary unless I can get that drawer open!" Here he gave another tremendous tug at the drawer, and saying, "Gentlemen of the jury,"—"Gentlemen of the jury,"—"A natural impossibility!" sank back in his seat with his face bathed in a profuse perspiration.
The attention of the jury and spectators was attracted by the strange conduct of the speaker, and a general peal of laughter broke forth as soon as they perceived his awkward dilemma. These demonstrations of mirth, which the court could not wholly repress, so increased the agitation of poor Pate, that he sprang up and rushed from the court-room like a man on a wild hunt after his wits.
"He has suddenly seen a psychological illusion," said a pitiless limb of the law in a loud whisper.
"No," said Toney Belton, "he has gone for a locksmith to open the drawer, and will soon return and conclude his argument."
But the eloquent advocate never came back to conclude his powerful appeal in behalf of Sam, who was convicted by the jury and sentenced by the court to confinement in the penitentiary for the term of two years and six months.
"There are persons so peculiarly constituted as to suppose that all the inhabitants of the terrestrial globe have their minds occupied with thoughts of them," said Toney to the Professor.
"And that all the people of the planets are peeping through telescopes and making critical observations on their actions," said the Professor.
"The unfortunate M. T. Pate must have been in some such mental condition after his lamentable break down in court."
"What has become of him? I have not seen him for a whole month."
"During several weeks he remained in seclusion, and manufactured an immense amount of melancholy for home consumption. His stock being finally exhausted he came forth into the world again."
"To discover that the world was occupied with its own affairs and thinking very little about him?"
"Yes; some were engaged in making money; some in making mischief——"
"And Tom Seddon in making love with indefatigable industry——"
"While the earth revolved on her axis as if nothing extraordinary had ever occurred in the court-room."
"What is Pate now doing?"
"He has become a collecting lawyer."
"What is that?"
"An attorney who, for a moderate commission, rides over the country collecting money for his clients."
"A dun? Why, yonder comes Pate now on his old white horse!"
"Good-morning, Mr. Pate," said Toney, as the lawyer rode up.
"Are you riding far to-day?"
"Only to the Widow Wild's residence. I have a claimto collect for Mr. Clement. Good-morning, gentlemen." And Pate rode on.
"Did he say he was going to the Widow Wild's residence?" asked the Professor.
"Yes; to dun her for a debt."
"If my identity was merged in that of M. T. Pate, I would be afraid to venture within a hundred yards of the widow's house."
"Why?"
"I sat by her side in the court-room, and heard her declaration of war against M. T. Pate."
"He denounced her terribly in his speech to the jury."
"And she denounced him terribly in her speech to me."
"I wish Tom Seddon was here; we might send him to witness the interview between the widow and M. T. Pate."
"His absence is to be deplored. Ida has done the sect of Funny Philosophers great injury by carrying off one of its most efficient members, who is so much needed in this emergency. But when that young lady returned to Bella Vista she took Mr. Seddon's heart with her; and, of course, it was not to be expected that he should exist in one locality, and that important organ, which is supposed to be the seat of vitality, in another."
The Professor here proceeded to animadvert on the conduct of young ladies in appropriating other people's hearts, and was making sundry remarks on the subject, when he was interrupted by Toney, who exclaimed,—
"Why, yonder comes Clement and his clerk from the direction of the Widow Wild's house! Good-morning, Mr. Clement. Have you seen Mr. Pate?"
"I saw him ride up the avenue leading to Mrs. Wild's house, and dismount," said Clement.
"I saw him pull the bell at the front door," said the clerk.
"Was the door opened to him?" asked the Professor.
"It was opened by the widow herself, who, with a smiling countenance and an extended hand, seemed to bid him welcome," said the clerk.
"That is strange!" said the Professor.
"Not so strange as it may seem," said the clerk; "for, though Pate is sometimes bad-mannered among men, hewill purr as softly as a pussy cat as soon as he comes in proximity to a petticoat. It is just as likely as not that the widow has taken a fancy to him."
"Women are enigmas," said Toney.
"The Widow Wild certainly is," said the Professor. "She would puzzle the brain of an Œdipus."
The deadly hostility of the widow to M. T. Pate was well known to the people of Mapleton, and a crowd collected around Clement; and, in a prolonged discussion, endeavored to solve what now appeared to be a mystery.
"She was glad to see him!" said one.
"Shook hands with him!" said another.
"Invited him in!" said a third.
"But why does he stay so long?" said Clement.
During the day this question was often repeated by the gossips, who assembled in groups, with their gaze fixed on the road leading from the widow's mansion to the town.
Suddenly a horse and rider are seen approaching from that direction at a furious speed. As they come nearer, the man seems to be without a hat, and with a heavy suit of black hair, and huge black whiskers. The steed is spotted like a leopard. The people behold the strange horse and rider with amazement as they enter the town with the speed of Tam O'Shanter. At this moment a shout goes up from the crowd.
"Stop! stop!, stop!" cried a number of voices.
But, Mazeppa-like, the mysterious apparition dashes through the town; and while men, women, and children are gazing in gaping wonderment, the bare-headed rider and spotted steed disappear beyond a distant hill.
"Who do you think it was?" said a group of astonished people to the Professor.
The Professor shook his head and was silent.
"What is your opinion, Mr. Clement?" asked a man in the crowd.
Clement was puzzled, and said nothing.
"Who was that hatless and hugely-whiskered rider?" said Toney to the Professor.
"It is a mystery yet to be solved," said the Professor, as he took Toney's arm and walked with him to the latter's office.
"What may be the subject of your meditations?" said Toney to the Professor on the following morning, as he dodged aside to avoid coming in collision with the latter, who was walking with his gaze apparently fixed on the toes of his boots.
"I beg pardon!" said the Professor, with a look of surprise. "I had no intention of converting myself into a battering-ram. I am in no belligerent mood, I assure you. To tell the truth, Toney, I am very sad."
"What may be the cause of your melancholy?"
"Disappointment in my fondest wishes."
"In love?"
"No, not in love. I was once disappointed in love, and I know what that is. It is a sore trial, but nothing to the affliction which I now endure."
"I cannot imagine the nature of your trouble. From what does it proceed?"
"Breach of promise."
"What?"
"Breach of promise unadvisedly made to five respectable maiden ladies."
"To all five? Why, you must be a Turk!"
"What am I to do?" said the Professor, with a look of despondency. "I cannot fulfill my promise."
"I should think not, unless you emigrate to Salt Lake."
"I wish Tom Seddon were here. He could assist me."
"Do you suppose he would abandon Ida?"
"Toney, my dear fellow, you can help me."
"By taking one of the respectable maiden ladies off your hands? I beg to be excused. There is but one woman in the world I would marry, and that I would do quickly enough if I had a hundred thousand dollars."
"I was not speaking of marriage."
"Did you not say that you had promised five respectable maiden ladies?"
"Not to conduct them to the altar."
"What, then?"
"To unravel the great mystery which is now agitating the minds of the entire population of this town, and more especially of the female portion."
"What is that?"
"Who was the bare-headed rider on the Woolly Horse? Toney, can you tell? If I do not discover this secret, what will become of me when I return to my boarding-house where the five respectable maiden ladies are waiting to receive the information, which I have solemnly promised to obtain and impart? Toney, do you know who was the man on the Woolly Horse?"
"I do not."
"Have you been to the Widow Wild's house since the apparition dashed through the street on yesterday?"
"I was at the widow's house last night."
"What did you discover?"
"Nothing?"
"Did you allude to M. T. Pate?"
"I did."
"What did the widow say?"
"She said he was a very smart lawyer, and then changed the topic of conversation."
"That woman is a mystery I cannot solve. She will drive me mad! But what did Rosabel say when Pate's name was mentioned?"
"She and her cousin, the widow's niece, tittered."
"Well?"
"The widow sharply rebuked them for their levity."
"What then?"
"The young ladies attempted to smother themselves."
"How?"
"By holding their handkerchiefs to their mouths."
"Did they succeed?"
"They did not. The attempt was a failure. There were explosions of laughter, and the young ladies jumped up and ran from the room. I saw them no more that night, but I heard from an adjoining room loud shrieks——"
"What! shrieks? Nothing serious, I hope?"
"Shrieks of laughter."
"And you have discovered nothing?"
"Nothing."
"Toney, what am I to do? I cannot return to my boarding-house, and look those five respectable maiden ladies in their faces, and say I know nothing."
"Have you seen Mrs. Foot?"
"No."
"Let us go to her house."
"Why should we go there?"
"It is the headquarters of all the female gossips in the town."
"Then we will go. It is the place for information. Who is Mrs. Foot?"
"The mother of the three tall young ladies whom you have seen escorted by Love, Dove, and Bliss."
"The giraffes in petticoats? What are their names?"
"Cleopatra, Theodosia, and Sophonisba."
"They are very tall women with very long names. Which of them was carrying little Love hooked to her arm?"
"That was Cleopatra."
"And the one who was looking down so benignly on Dove?"
"Theodosia."
"And Sophonisba had secured Bliss. Toney, I seldom vaticinate, but I now predict that those three little men will marry those three stupendous sisters."
"That would be against the rules of the Mystic Order of Seven Sweethearts, of which order Love, Dove, and Bliss are active and useful members."
"When a very little man," said the Professor, not heeding Toney's last observation, "comes in daily contact with a woman of gigantic proportions, a marriage is inevitable."
"How do you account for such a phenomenon?"
"Upon very obvious principles. A little man like Bliss, promenading with a giantess like Sophonisba, looks up to her when he speaks, and his numerous soft and tender expressions ascend like prayers addressed to somesuperior being above him. Sophonisba looks down and beholds poor little Bliss walking by her side like a motherless lamb needing protection. A feeling of pity takes possession of her bosom, and pity is nearly akin to love."
"The big woman first pities the little man, and then loves him?"
"That is just it. Did you ever see a very large woman married to a man of similar proportions?"
"Indeed, I have. Mrs. Foot is as tall as Sophonisba, and much more robust. Her husband, Gideon Foot, looks like Winfield Scott; while her son, who is called Hercules, stands six feet seven in his stockings."
"A race of giants! descended, perhaps, in a direct line from Ogg, the King of Bashan."
"Here is the house, and we have arrived at about the right time in the afternoon. The gossips usually assemble at this hour."
"Why, this is the very place where we discovered Love, Dove, and Bliss, one night, singing so sweetly."
"They come here and warble nearly every night under the windows."
"Serenading the giantesses, I suppose?"
"Yes; serenading the young ladies,—the Feet."
"Toney, is that correct?"
"What?"
"The Feet."
"Do you not say the Browns and the Smiths?"
"Certainly."
"What is the plural of Foot?"
"Feet."
"Of course. You would not have me say Foots?"
"It is a question of philology which I am unable to determine."
"Let us go in," said Toney.
He pulled the bell, and a servant appeared, and ushered them into a parlor, where sat Mrs. Foot with her three daughters, and three female friends. The Professor was introduced by Toney to the lady of the house, and then to Cleopatra, Theodosia, and Sophonisba; after which ceremony, the two gentlemen were introduced by Mrs. Foot to Mrs. Cross, Mrs. Hobbs, and Mrs. Smart.
"Oh, Mr. Belton," said the gigantic mother of the three stupendous sisters, "I am so glad you have come! Have you heard anything?"
"In respect to what?" asked Toney.
"The Woolly Horse!" said Mrs. Foot.
"The Woolly Horse!" exclaimed Mrs. Cross.
"The Woolly Horse!" cried Mrs. Hobbs.
"Who was the man on the Woolly Horse?" eagerly inquired Mrs. Smart.
The young ladies said nothing; but half a dozen blue eyes belonging to the young ladies aforesaid were intently fixed on Toney, in expectation of his answer. Toney was silent. Mrs. Foot arose from her chair and came close to him. Her three female friends made a similar movement, and Toney was surrounded.
"Have you heard anything?" reiterated Mrs. Foot.
"Who was the man on the Woolly Horse?" screamed Mrs. Smart.
"Indeed, madam, that is just what I would like to know," said Toney.
The expression of eager expectation on the countenance of each lady was instantly changed to one of sad disappointment.
"He don't know," sighed Mrs. Foot.
"He don't know," said Mrs. Cross, with a profound suspiration.
"It is too bad!" exclaimed Mrs. Hobbs.
"That nobody should know who was the man on the Woolly Horse!" said Mrs. Smart, in extreme vexation.
"My friend Mr. Tickle may know," said Toney, with a mischievous twinkle of his eye, as he directed their attention to the Professor, who was instantly surrounded.
"Who was it, Mr. Tickle?" said Mrs. Foot.
"Who was it?" exclaimed Mrs. Cross.
"Oh, dear! who was it?" cried Mrs. Hobbs.
"Mr. Tickle, who was the man on the Woolly Horse?" screamed Mrs. Smart.
"Ladies," said the Professor, with profound gravity, "it may have been an Osage Indian carrying a Woolly Horse, which he had captured in the Rocky Mountains, to Barnum."
"It was an Osage Indian on the Woolly Horse!" screamed Mrs. Smart.
"No, it wasn't an Osage Indian," said Mrs. Tongue, who had entered the room unobserved.
She was instantly surrounded.
"Who was it? Who was it?" was asked and reiterated.
"Wait until I get my breath," said Mrs. Tongue, sinking into a chair. "Bless me! I have walked so fast!"
"Who was it? Who was it? Who was it?" came with reiterations from several female voices while the lady was employed in getting her breath.
"Will you all promise not to say a word about it?" said Mrs. Tongue.
"Yes—yes!—not a word—not a syllable!—we will not breathe it!" was instantly and unanimously promised by the female portion of Mrs. Tongue's audience.
"You know the Widow Wild's cook?" said Mrs. Tongue.
"Yes," said Mrs. Foot.
"The black woman whom Simon Rump kissed!" screamed Mrs. Smart.
"The miserable dog!" cried Mrs. Cross.
"The cook," said Mrs. Tongue, "was at my house about half an hour ago, and told me——"
"What? What? What? What?" exclaimed four female voices simultaneously.
"That Mr. Pate rode up to the Widow Wild's house, on yesterday morning, and, dismounting, pulled the bell at the front door. The widow opened the door herself, and received Mr. Pate with much cordiality. Having invited him in, she introduced him to her daughter and niece; and he and the three ladies soon got to be so sociable that they sat down to a game of whist. Time passed pleasantly and rapidly until dinner was announced. After dinner the widow proposed a game of blind-man's-buff; and the three ladies and Pate began the game with much merriment. It came to the lawyer's turn to be blinded; and, as soon as the handkerchief was over his eyes, the widow rang a bell and her two big negro men, Juba and Jugurtha, rushed into the room and caught Pate, and Juba held him while Jugurtha smeared tar over his headand face. The widow then took a basket of black wool, and stuck the wool all over his head, and put some big bunches on his checks, so as to look like very large whiskers. The lawyer cried like a child and begged for mercy; but the widow laughed immoderately while she was decorating him with the wool. When released, the lawyer fled to the door, and there stood his horse in much the same condition as himself. He mounted and rode wildly away; the widow calling after him, 'Mr. Pate! Mr. Pate! be sure to come back and get your money to-morrow!'"
"Did you ever hear the like?" said Mrs. Foot.
"Never!" exclaimed Mrs. Cross.
"No; never!" cried Mrs. Hobbs.
"And so Mr. Pate was the man on the Woolly Horse!" screamed Mrs. Smart.
"Hush!" exclaimed Cleopatra, who was sitting at a window. "Here is Mr. Love."
"Hush!" said Theodosia, "Here is Mr. Dove."
"Hush!" said Sophonisba. "Here is Mr. Bliss."
"They are Mr. Pate's particular friends," said Mrs. Foot. "It will not do to say anything about him before them,—it might hurt their feelings. Let us talk about something else."
The three little men now entered the room, and Toney and the Professor arose, and, bowing to the ladies, withdrew. They walked together until they reached Toney's office, when the Professor said, "Well, Toney, I can now face the five respectable maiden ladies without trepidation. Eureka! eureka! Good-by, old fellow."
"Good-by," said Toney, laughing. And he entered his office, while the Professor proceeded with rapid strides towards his boarding-house.